Thinking
by tcarlson
Summary: It is dangerous to think anything when your captor is the best Legilimens in the world. For Hermione Granger, a woman who lives for mental stimulation, it is hard to not think at all, especially when a certain potions professor is around.
1. Chp 1: Shutting Off the Brain

Hermione regretted that she never learned Occlumency. She had read about it numerous times, of course, but reading it and practicing it were two very different things. Plus, it was hard to put up these "walls" and "clear the mind" like the books spoke of when you knelt next to the most powerful Legilimens in the world and weren't sure if you would live to see another day.

Fortunately, said Legilimens had allowed her to live many days thus far, which is far more than Hermione could have hoped for. They were days not spent in comfort or peace. She was forced to kneel on the cold stone floor next to the elaborate throne, or, if she was lucky, on the slightly more comfortable carpet next to the marble desk. Punishment came swift and hard. The Cruciatus curse was thrown at her without warning for the slightest of infringements.

She was to kneel, be silent, and do as she was told.

Although, it_ is_ hard to be silent when your captor and almost constant companion can hear your thoughts as easily as if you spoke them out loud and directly into his ear. She would think absentmindedly of Harry or Ron and be writhing on the floor in the throes of some sort of curse before she knew what hit her.

He knew her secrets. He knew every intimate detail about her. And he used everything he learned against her. It made for the most creative of punishments when he played on her fears and doubts, but it also made for a very miserable existence.

So she tried not to think. She would try to imagine a blank piece of parchment in her mind. It was something that he couldn't use against her. This approach would last all of fifteen minutes. She was easily sidetracked by the conversation going on around her in the room. Her mind went from blank parchment to whatever the Death Eaters were currently discussing to "_Merlin, I need to escape these monsters!_" in a second flat. The second after that, she suddenly found herself writhing on the floor in unbearable pain.

She couldn't turn her mind off like a switch. It was a drawback of being so inquisitive and intelligent: her mind whirled with a thousand different thoughts and fears and desires. He could easily go in there and pluck out what would serve his purpose. Instead, she tried thinking of very specific and boring things. Things that he wouldn't care a moment about and that he couldn't use against her.

She went through every single potion recipe that she ever learned. She translated what was being said into Runes and back again. She recited entire books from memory. Basically, she created her own form of Occlumency by not thinking anything he would want to hear. And it worked quite well. He hadn't caught her thinking anything that he could punish her for in days. It may be a boring life, but she was safe.

It proved frustrating, though. It was tiring to constantly think of topics that he wouldn't care about and not to slip into the old habit of thinking whatever she pleased. It literally drained her. She always had to be on her guard. She hadn't a moment's peace. She worried about her dreams, even, for recently he had started chaining her up at the foot of his bed at night. Drifting off to sleep, she would allow a small prayer to flitter through her thoughts, hoping that her dreams would not give him reason to be angry in the morning. So far she had been lucky.

He never said much to her except to bark a few orders in her direction. She learned to obey those first few days. Now, with her mind basically turned off, it was even easier to follow his commands unthinkingly. Kneel here, eat now, follow me, do this, do that, blah, blah, blah.

The sane part of her that sometimes still broke through screamed at her to rebel for surely even being tortured must be better than the monotony she was forced to endure. She needed mental stimulation, for Merlin's sake! She quickly shut that part of her up by starting to name all the objects in the room, her go-to method to "emptying" her mind.

"_You don't have to take this_," that sane part yelled at her one day. "_Get up off your knees, Hermione Granger, and show some of that Gryffindor courage. You are not some servant to be bossed around, you are… 8 windows, a black tiled floor, an oriental rug, the large marble desk, a tapestry of a dragon…_" She sighed in relief as she got herself under control.

The figure in the chair beside her paused in his scribbling and shifted to look at her. "Actually, I do believe that tapestry is of a snake, not a dragon," he informed her, his red eyes glittering with amusement. She nodded and ducked her head further to again escape his attention.

"…_a tapestry of a _snake," she corrected herself. He went back to his notes. "_3 doors, a table, 4 chairs, Professor Snape… _Professor Snape?"

He didn't spare her a second glance. None of the Death Eaters ever did. She was invisible to all except their master, who rather enjoyed reminding her that she _wasn't_ invisible.

"My Lord, I bring news," her former professor stated in his usual bored drawl.

News? News was good. She hadn't heard anything about the Order or the war since before she woke up lying on the floor next to his throne with no memory of how she got there. He had looked down at her, told her to kneel, cursed her when she didn't comply, and the rest is history. What she would give to hear how Harry and Ron were! Or if the Order was planning on her rescue…

A Stinging hex that she interpreted to mean "shut up" hit her in the hip. She had the decency to look ashamed at her uncontrolled thoughts. The Muffliato charm cast around her destroyed any hope that she would finally hear _something_ of the outside world. To be safe, she started listing the steps to brew a proper Polyjuice Potion. No need to anger him further.

Unfortunately, the Polyjuice Potion brought on the memory of stealing the ingredients needed for it from the man who stood before the desk. This lead to the thought that the man before the desk had been her professor for six years and was now witnessing her kneeling beside the desk like a slave or a whore. He probably thought that she had been _forced_ by him and was that pity in his eyes or was she imagining it? And oh this is so embarrassing!

The Muffliato charm was lifted to reveal the Dark Lord chuckling. "Excuse me, Severus, but I must interrupt you. Miss. Granger has been babbling in her head since you got here and I find it quite amusing. She's been so composed the past couple of weeks, but you've seemed to have totally broken her concentration."

"_Weeks? How long have I been here?_" Hermione wondered. "_No! Stop! Concentrate. Let's see… 12 uses of dragon blood…_"

"She seems to think that you would care about her current position. That because you were her teacher, that you would pity her state," the Dark Lord continued as if she hadn't thought a thing at all. "She also worries that you think that I've forced myself upon her. She's quite intent on you knowing that I haven't."

"…_and the twelfth use is oven cleaner…_"

"I assure you, my Lord, that I actually quite enjoy seeing her obedient and silent. I wish she could have been so during my classes. As for the other concern, I care not if her honor is intact or not. It may finally put her in her place, though."

"_That bastard!_" Anger emptied her mind of everything except possibly scrambling over the desk and slapping that sneer off of Snape's face.

Another Stinging hex caught her in the cheek. "Apologize," the Dark Lord demanded.

Snape looked confused but turned to her to receive his apology. "I'm sorry," she spat, "that I called you a bastard _in my head_ and that I _thought_ about slapping you because of the aforementioned bastardness."

Both men's faces darkened. "_Well done, Hermione_," she chastised herself. "_What a perfect time to be totally Gryffindor and not think of the consequences_." She braced herself for the slew of curses that was sure to follow such an idiotic outburst. Had she learned nothing in the weeks that she had been held captive?

"I will deal with you later," the Dark Lord said menacingly. "Severus's report is more important than your temper tantrum."

The Muffliato charm was replaced, leaving Hermione to angrily stare at the floor and occupy her mind in silence. She was furious with herself. Now she would have to endure some sort of horrible punishment and she didn't know how much more pain she could take before totally losing herself in despair.

The buzzing that accompanied the Muffliato charm lifted, but the room was no less quiet. Sneaking a peek to see if she had been left alone, Hermione jumped when the face of her captor was found to be less than a foot from hers. He studied her thoughtfully. She squirmed under his intense gaze.

Suddenly, he stepped back and walked away. "Come," he ordered, holding the door open to his private chambers that connected to the office. She nervously shuffled past him and stood awkwardly in the center of his room. He stepped into the room and slammed the door behind him. "Now, what am I to do with my naughty Mudblood?"


	2. Chp 2: To Lure a Potter

Hermione cowered in the center of the room as Lord Voldemort stalked toward her. She fought the instinct to back away and instead sank to her knees as was expected of her. It was better to do as she had been instructed than fight it and earn a double dose of punishment. At least she didn't need to think of anything to occupy her mind. The fear made it completely blank. She focused on remembering to breathe.

He stopped right in front of her and stared down, looking pensive. His wand hand moved and she flinched involuntarily, bracing herself for curses that never came. After several seconds of silence, Hermione dared to take a peek upward. His red eyes stared back. She quickly ducked her head again.

"Stand," he ordered, fingering his wand.

She promptly stood, hoping for a simple Cruciatus Curse and not one of his more creative punishments where he delved into her mind and played off of any snippet he found there. Last time, he found the old fear of drowning from when she was six and was swept under the water from a powerful undertow. He had conjured a large bubble of water that surrounded her and watched her thrash about as her lungs screamed for oxygen with impassive eyes.

"I've been sending young Harry short little visions of your stay here via our connection. I could feel his anger so strongly at first. He couldn't believe that I had gotten his stubborn Hermione to kneel beside me like a lap dog. He swore to save you as soon as possible."

"_I'm being kept here as a trap for Harry?_" Hermione thought with a flash of dread. "_He'll come and get himself killed! No, the Order would never allow it…_"

"Yes, the meddling Order has kept him from making the stupid mistake of running into my lair head-on without a plan. I expected no less, but what I didn't expect was that he would become resigned to your fate. It is as if the Order has made no plans to save you in the foreseeable future and he knows that he can do nothing for you. He misses you and feels so badly that he can't help you, but he receives the visions with no anger, no stirring of the hero complex to come and save you. I must up the ante to lure him here."

The Dark Lord didn't seem to be talking to Hermione anymore. This monologue was for himself to get his thoughts in order. He paced slow circles around her. Finally stopping his torturous track, he stood in front of her, the hem of his expensive silk robes brushing against her bare feet. He studied her silently for several minutes.

"We need to reignite his passion for saving you."

"_We?_" Hermione thought weakly.

"Yes, both of us. Together. For there is no better way to get him here than by exploiting the fact that I have his Mudblood best friend in my clutches. That I can do to her whatever I wish."

"_Torture_." The word swam through Hermione's mind like a bad dream. She had been tortured so much in so many horrible ways. And now he wanted to step it up a notch? She had no doubts about the amazing healing power of her body… but her mind… How much more could it take?

"We've already established that torture doesn't seem to be working anymore," Voldemort muttered bitterly. Keeping close contact, he swung himself so he could press his chest against her back. "When Snape had disrupted your flimsy attempts to hide your thoughts, you had been keen to let him know that I hadn't forced myself on you. I wanted to leave that avenue as a last resort because of your regrettable blood status, but it seems as if we have reached that point, my dear."

She froze as his hands skimmed her sides, holding back a sob. This was the worst punishment yet: being told that not only was she a captive, but that she was going to be used as some sort of… sex plaything… to lure Harry to his death! No spell could ever do the damage that this would.

"And if you endure our encounters with a minimal amount of fuss, I'm sure that you will find yourself to be rewarded properly."

Deep under her disgust and dread, a very small part of her was enticed by the word "reward". Her mind reeled with the possibilities: "_Real clothes! My own bed! Books!_" She felt guilty that even that small part of her thought of being compliant. The rest of her would very much like to go throw up in the corner at just the thought of him touching her, never mind the fact that he was currently taking the liberty of running his hands over her sides, back, shoulders, and neck.

Hermione boldly stepped away from his roving hands and turned to face him. He folded his arms and cocked his head to the side as if it entertained him to see her little act of rebelliousness even though he knew that she knew that he would get his way. She nervously played with the hem of her plain, shapeless robe.

"No," she said quietly but firmly. The Dark Lord's face showed no trace of emotion. He just stood there and stared, making her quite nervous about what thoughts were running through _his_ mind. "But, um, thank you?" she finished meekly.

"I wasn't asking permission. I was only notifying you as a courtesy," he informed her.

She started hyperventilating. Her head felt fuzzy and the room spun around her. She stumbled toward the wall to catch herself before she fainted, but she miscalculated and the floor rushed up to meet her. However, before she hit the floor, an arm wound around her waist and another went behind her neck to support her head. She was lifted into the air and carried across the room.

When Hermione was dropped onto the soft mattress of the bed, she gratefully sank into the blankets. Then, her foggy mind remembered Voldemort's plan for her and she panicked. After what he had just divulged, his bed was the _last _place that she would want to find herself. Her eyes snapped open and she scrambled to the opposite side of the bed to get as far away from him as possible.

"No, please," she begged.

"Calm yourself. It will not be now. You need to rest and adjust to this news, and I need to finish some business. I will be back later tonight after you've gotten over the initial shock. Now rest."

He didn't leave until she had tentatively lain down. After he swept out of the room, she allowed herself a few tears and then let the darkness claim her.

She didn't know how long she had slept, but as soon as Hermione had wakened, she sat against the headboard and braced herself for his return. She jumped at every little sound, thinking it was the Dark Lord about to open the door. Just as she was wondering how much more her nerves could take, the door did open but it wasn't Voldemort returning.

It was Snape. As relieved as she was that she had been spared for awhile longer, she couldn't help but worry what sort of purpose his appearance had.

He didn't waste any time. In a couple of short strides, he was standing next to the bed, holding out two vials for her to take.

"It is the Dark Lord's wish that you drink these immediately so that they can take effect by the time his business is completed," he drawled.

She eyed the vials warily. "What are they?"

"Since you are such an insufferable know-it-all, you tell me," he answered, handing her the first one.

She uncorked it and sniffed it carefully. The aroma was very distinct and she had no problem placing the potion in a distinct category, but something about it was a little off. "It's a contraceptive," she told him with a deep blush and an unpleasant twist of her stomach, "but something is wrong about this one. It's not anything we learned about in class."

"You wouldn't have learned about this one in class. Those were short term contraceptives meant to last a night or a month at most per dose. This one is darker magic meant to last indefinitely." She balked and recapped the vial. "You must take it," he ordered.

"No! I want kids one day. I won't ruin my future happiness just because he's had a sudden inspiration to rape me!"

"Do you really want to bear the Dark Lord's heir?"

She shook her head forcefully, blinking back tears. "But when I get out of here… Ron and I always planned…"

"I seriously doubt that you will live through this to produce another brood of Weasleys," he interrupted cruelly. "Now drink it or I will make you drink it."

She had no doubt that he would so to spare herself further embarrassment, she quickly swallowed the mouthful in the vial before she could second guess herself. The only sign that it worked was a sharp pain in her abdomen that swiftly abated. Hermione covered her lower stomach with her hand and silently mourned the loss of any future children she ever hoped to have.

The second vial was thrust under her nose already uncapped. She took it with shaking hands and sniffed it as well. It was just a calming drought mixed with a mild relaxant. Hermione was actually grateful for that one. Once the vial was empty, she lay down and curled into a small ball.

"The Dark Lord will arrive in about an hour. It gives both potions enough time to take full effect. If you feel the need to break into hysterics, I'd do that now because he'll have no patience for your sniveling." The two empty vials clanked against each other as he picked them up and dropped them in his pocket. Then he was gone.

Hermione supposed she should have felt like breaking down and crying, but couldn't muster the energy to do so. Listlessly, she stretched out on her side and took advantage of her solitude by letting her mind roam.

After what apparently had been weeks of captivity without encountering her former professor, she interacted with Snape twice in one day! She could understand his aloofness and nastiness when in front of Voldemort, but why, when they were alone, hadn't he attempted to comfort her in some way? Or give her news? Or let her know the Order's plans were to save her? She didn't believe for a second that he was Voldemort's man. After all, Dumbledore trusted him completely so she should too. At any rate, it was good to know that she had sort of an ally close by.

"_He probably didn't trust my ability to shield my thoughts from Voldemort,_" she mused, "_but he'll find a way to pass me information, I'm sure._" She felt oddly comforted at this thought. "_Everything will be alright…_"

The door opened, but she couldn't bother to check to see who it was. The blankets were too soft and her head felt too heavy. She sighed contently when a hand trailed up her back, raising pleasant goose bumps across her body. The bed dipped and she felt someone settle next to her. She opened her eyes, wondering when she had closed them, to find herself staring into the red eyes of the Dark Lord. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of her mind, she knew that she should be scared or at least attempting to get away, but the potions were too powerful to feel more than just detached curiosity as his face loomed closer to press his lips to hers.


End file.
